


We're on Fire now

by Popstar



Category: Dunkirk (2017) RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Music, Aneurin is really good with the guitar, But it's really only there if you squint, Fionn is an upcoming musician, Fluff, Harry is already the big ass pop star we all know and love, Jack and Tom are in love, Jack owns a pub, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 18:38:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11950266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popstar/pseuds/Popstar
Summary: The one where Fionn Whitehead is an up-and-coming musician who’s just been signed and Harry Styles, uber famous pop star, is brought in to help wite the album.





	We're on Fire now

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Dunkirk_Little_Ships_Fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Dunkirk_Little_Ships_Fest) collection. 



> Hello! This was written for the Dunkik little ship fest for the following **prompt:**
> 
> an AU based on the promo interview where fionn (jokingly) gets asked when his album is coming out and he replies, "as soon as harry agrees to write it with me." in other words: fionn is an up-and-coming musician who's just been signed. harry is already uber-famous and slightly jaded. he gets brought in to help fionn with the album and Things Happen!
> 
> (bonus appearances made by any of the other cast members would be Much Appreciated.)
> 
> \--
> 
> I really hope I got the basic of your prompt, OP, and you're happy with the outcome. I've got to admit that I'm a little nervous about posting. I haven't written in years and I've never written anything with Harry in it before either. So, long story short. I just really hope you like it. When I saw the interview, I was immediately inspired and when I read your prompt, I just knew I had to write this. It practically wrote itself anyway.
> 
> The Jack/Tom is minor and only there if you squint, but I had to put the two of them in here because of reasons and my own personal pleasure. I wish I could say I was sorry about this. But I’m really not. I love them.
> 
> [crownheartsteacup](http://crownheartsteacup.tumblr.com) is the best person in the world. So a big thanks to her for holding my hand and helping me with this, also a big bunch of flowers to her for the beta. 
> 
> I have no proper knowledge of how the music industry works, but since this is an AU anyway, I just went with it.
> 
> All remaining mistakes belong to Lukas because of reasons. 
> 
> **Disclaimer** : I don't own anything and this is simply for entertainment. Don't want to hurt anyone's feelings here and am not implying anything - it's just fiction that sprung from my imagination.
> 
> The title is shamelessly stolen from One Direction.
> 
> -

Fionn is still a little overwhelmed by how quickly everything went down. One day he was working in a coffee shop in Waterloo and playing the guitar at his mate’s pub, the next day he’s got a record label and a deal that’ll earn him real money with his music. It went down so fast, he almost feels run over, but he’s glad that his father was there to read over the contract with him because he’s sure he wouldn’t have understood a single word all by his own. Not that he’s daft, but it’s a lot to take in if you’ve never done it before and his father knows his fair share of the music industry – at least to some point. Fionn would’ve been stupid not to ask him for advice.

 

It still takes a few days to really sink in though. He needs the normal work, his normal mates and his daily life to keep him distracted and busy until he can call up his mate Jack, who owns the pub he was discovered at, and tell him the good news.

 

“Mate, that’s amazing!” Jack tells him, excitement letting his voice rise and his accent thicken. “I knew you’d make it, didn’t I tell you? Fuck, this calls for a celebration! Come by the pub tonight, will you? I’ll call up the lads.”

 

“Yeah, I’d love to. It’s still so... fuck, really. I mean. I’m gonna make real money with my music. I can’t really picture it yet,” Fionn answers and shakes his head softly, as if trying to make himself remember that this isn’t, in fact, a dream. He can stop his work in the coffee shop – which was nice, at some point. He’s really liked his co-workers, Sarah, especially. She doesn’t take anyone’s shit. But there’s a difference in brewing coffee and serving angry businessmen and doing what you love and be able to live on it.

 

Jack laughs softly. “We’ll toast to that tonight!” He promises and then bids his goodbye because he’s got stuff to prepare and Fionn’s got to go back to work anyway.

 

He’s surprised at how crowded the pub is this night when he gets in. He hasn’t even known he has this many friends – and he’s quite sure they’re just there because Jack asked them to come or invited them, promised them free drinks, who knows, really. Sure, he knows them, most of them are regular faces that come in often at the pub and Jack has a habit of making friends easily. He’s just a genuinely good guy.

 

But his mates are there, Tom is there, as well as Barry and Brian and Fionn is wrapped up in a hug by each and every one of them, getting their well wishes and congratulations, before it’s Jack, who raises his glass and quiets down the entire pub. “To Fionn Whitehead, the next big superstar!” The crowd cheers loudly, raising their glasses as well.

 

Fionn actually blushes at that and tries to hide behind his beer. It’s never really occurred to him that signing a record deal actually meant becoming famous as well. It’s something that doesn’t quite sit right with him, people knowing every last detail of him, his family, his friends or even his love life. Not that there’s much of that at the moment, but still. He’s a very private person and he doesn’t want his life spread out to the last detail to every grandma on the streets. He doesn’t even have social media.

 

Tom wraps his arm around Fionn’s shoulders, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Fuck yeah, I knew you’d make it!” He shouts into his ear and grins at him. “Your music is amazing, it really is. Have they said anything about your album yet? I mean, you’ve gotta make one, right?”

 

Actually, Fionn hadn’t thought about that either. He’s been so busy freaking out over the deal itself that he hasn’t had time to think about what would come next. But yes, obviously he would have to come up with an album, create some music because the songs he’s been singing at the pub hadn’t been his own thus far except for one song he’s come up with a little help of his mate Joe.

 

“Yeah, sure,” he says and shrugs. “But I honestly don’t know how that works. I’ll figure it out when the people in the suits call me. That’s how it’s supposed to be, right?”

 

Tom laughs out loud at that and nods. “Probably,” he says and squeezes Fionn’s shoulder. “But now, let’s celebrate! You’ll be a big star soon and get us into the best clubs in town.”

 

At least someone will get something out of the fame, Fionn thinks, smiles at Tom and clinks his pint against his, before taking a large gulp.

 

 

\--

 

 

The next weeks go by in a storm. Fionn sits through meetings with people, gets his own agent slash manager and really, she’s a great lady, tough where it counts and she makes Fionn feel like she’s his second mother, even though she probably only is in her mid-thirties, tops.

 

“We have the perfect idea for your first album though. It will have to be indie, since you’re great with that guitar and we’ve got the perfect team assembled to write it with you,” one man in his black suit and tastefully coloured tie tells him, obviously quite proud at what they’ve come up with.

 

His father asks a lot of questions that Fionn doesn’t really listen to, but he’s glad that he’s with him. At least someone is paying attention to that entire ruckus. He asks how personal these songs have to be and how much other influence there will be. Everything Fionn hasn’t even considered important enough to ask.

 

Fionn listens to them rambling about studio time and how he’s supposed to work with the team for the next months, getting half a year to do this album. “Which really is a generous amount of time,” they tell him, normally he just would have a bit more than a few months. It makes Fionn realise that the business is a lot harder than he actually thought it would be and that his father had always been privileged by how he could write and publish his music on his own schedule.

 

“... And that’s why we’ve decided to bring in Harry Styles.”

 

Wait. “What?” Fionn’s eyebrows shoot up. He hasn’t really been listening to all the suits had told him, on which he really should work, so he doesn’t miss any big information like this in the future since his father won’t be in every meeting with him. “Like, the big pop star? The former boybander?”

 

Of course he knows who Harry Styles is. Probably everyone and their mother know about the singer, who used to be in the biggest boyband of the world. As they’ve taken a band hiatus – already one member short from how they started out – Styles, as well as the others, have taken on their solo careers. And as far as selling numbers and charts are concerned, he’s really doing rather well. They all are, as far as Fionn can tell, but Harry Styles is on an entirely different scale.

 

He’s selling out stadiums and his music really is great. Fionn likes his easy, laid back tunes, the soothing sound of his voice and even the witty lyrics. He can feel honoured to work with someone like Harry Styles on his album. Yet he finds it a little intimidating because Harry Styles knows what he’s doing and Fionn doesn’t know a single thing about the world that he just stumbled into.

 

It doesn’t help the fact that Fionn might have wanked once or twice to Harry’s green eyes, sinful lips and way too long hair. He’s basically supposed to work with his celebrity crush. It’s really not helping. Not that Fionn has ever considered meeting Harry Styles anyway. It’s just been really silly. Maybe the guy isn’t even anything like Fionn has imagined him. Maybe he’s a total arse. Who knows?

 

“Yes. He’s heard about your music and he wants to work with you, create an incredible album,” Sophie, his agent, tells him.

 

“He wants to...?” Fionn gapes at her. Where the hell would Harry Styles have heard his music? Why would he even know he was alive? He’s got like one original song and that’s the only song he’s ever played live, that got put on the internet and went viral. It’s not even great. It’s medium, at best. All he’s ever sung live where covers, songs and words by other great artists, which Fionn had borrowed and given them his own little twist. And now Fionn feels himself blushing, his ears burning.

 

“He’s a big fan.”

 

“That’s great,” his father says and smiles proudly. “We all are big fans, Fionn’s got a lot...” Fionn zones out, not listening to what his father is saying, no matter how much he loves him.

 

Sophie’s words still ring in his ears, making him feel dizzy. They’re just a line, though. It can’t be more than that, a saying, nothing more. Obviously, it’s something big pop stars say when they want to do something other than touring and singing their own music.

 

He knows that Styles has been through a lot these past years, has worked himself close to exhaustion. Maybe he just needs a break, to do something different and Fionn is the next best excuse he could find. He’s still trying to wrap his mind around it, while other information is getting thrown at him. He’s got half a year to come up with a decent album. Twelve songs are expected of him, not one song less. More are optional. And since they can’t spare their whole team of excellent writers for a newbie like him, he gets Harry and a few who he has worked with before. They don’t say it per se, but Fionn knows what they mean by it. He’s too big a risk to make a big investment, if they don’t really know he’s going to be the next big superstar.

 

 

\--

 

 

When Harry Styles walks into a room, he’s got all the attention on him. It’s his aura, his looks or the way he talks. It should be offending, annoying and really obnoxious, but Fionn can’t be helped but feel charmed.

 

He is everything Fionn has imagined him to be and even more.

 

Harry’s immediate attention focuses on Fionn and he makes him feel special, like he’s the most important person in the room. “Hi, Fionn, right? I’m Harry. I’m a big fan,” he tells him enthusiastically and shakes his hand, leaving Fionn a bit baffled.

 

“Thanks,” he says, squeezing Harry’s hand back in greeting, giving him half a smile. He doesn’t trust himself to do more because he doesn’t want to beam at Harry like he’s his biggest fan and embarrass himself more than he could handle.

 

“I’ve heard your song. It’s gone viral on the internet. I mean, understandable. It’s got a really great tune to it, the lyrics are amazing. Did you write it yourself?” Harry is like a whirlwind, his questions and eagerness sucking Fionn right in, even though he’s talking rather calmly, his voice drawling a little. It’s strange how such a calm speaker can create that kind of fuzz around him, making Fionn feel a little dizzy. Maybe he should get used to that feeling. He’s been dizzy for the past weeks now. It’s been a lot to take in.

 

“Uhm. Yeah. Yes, I did, had a little help from my mate, but it’s mine. It’s my first song, actually,” he admits, because there’s nothing shameful in admitting you’ve written and performed only one song in your life. Not everyone has years of experiences on being a big ass pop star.

 

“It’s really great for your first song, mine were total crap,” Harry tells him, beaming so widely at him that his dimples are showing. Fionn has never really understood all the hype around Harry Styles and why everyone was so charmed by him. He thought people were exaggerating, no matter how big his crush was. He could not wrap his head around the fuss everyone was making about Harry Styles. But now that Harry’s full attention is on him and his full-on support has Fionn feeling like he’s wrapped up in a security blanket, he does understand all the girls out there who want to throw their panties at Harry.

 

He just hopes it doesn’t show on his face. Hopes, that he can control his hormones and emotions and just be professional and make a fucking decent album without crushing too hard on Harry Styles.

 

Fionn really is fucked.

 

 

\--

 

“Harry fucking Styles?” Jack asks, pouring Fionn another pint and putting it in front of him, where his head is resting on the bar.

 

“Uh-uh,” Fionn mumbles and doesn’t look up. His forehead is resting on the cool surface and he’s convinced that everything will just sort itself out in time, if he doesn’t move at all.

 

“That’s huge,” Tom pipes in and pats the back of Fionn’s head. “Did he say something about your song?”

 

“He liked it.”

 

“That’s even better! C’mon, Fionn, a big ass pop star likes your song and you can profit from writing more songs with him. That’s fucking huge!” Tom nudges him, until Fionn raises his head and gives him a look.

 

“I know. That’s what I’m worried about. I mean, what if I fail?” He pulls the pint closer to him and looks down into the glass, as if the answers to all his questions lie on the bottom of it. It’s terrifying, that’s what it is, the thought of writing an entire album with someone like Styles. Fionn still can’t really imagine it. Especially because Harry was really nice to him, is good looking and everything Fionn wants in a man.

 

Tom just smiles at him. “You won’t. I know you. You’re great. You’ve written a great song, you’ll write a ton more. And now you’ve got someone – or more people, right? You said there’s a whole team? So you don’t have to work with Styles alone. He’s probably way too busy anyway and won’t stay for every song on the album. You’ll see. It’ll be great.”

 

Fionn’s eyebrows knit together. Maybe Tom is right. Maybe Fionn is panicking way too much about this. He should just stay calm and run with it. He’s never done an album before and it’s great to work with people who actually know what they’re doing, so he gets the chance to soak up everything like a big sponge and file it away for further use. If his album is really going to be successful, he’s sure to make a second one.

 

“Tom’s right,” Jack pipes in and nudges Fionn softly. “You’ll be fine.”

 

“You just say that because you like him more than me,” Fionn replies, a smile tugging his lips upwards.

 

“No. I just say that because he’s sucking my cock better than you.”

 

“God, no.” Fionn groans and lets his head fall onto the bar again. “Why am I even friends with you?”

 

 

\--

 

 

Harry is great with the guitar. He’s great with his words, too, just as they’re jamming around a bit. Fionn can’t stop watching his fingers or his mouth and he really should focus on the task before him. But it’s hard, when Harry is this distracting, it’s really unfair.

 

They’re in the studio Fionn was assigned to, he, Harry and a bunch of writers, experts on what they’re doing. He still feels a little overwhelmed by what they’re doing, even though it isn’t different much from what he’s done at home, when he wrote his own little song. He sat down with his guitar and Joe and let the inspiration wash over him, simple as that and that’s what they are supposed to be doing here, too. Bounce a few ideas back and forth, add a bit of music to it and create awesome songs.

 

Harry has requested another writer to join the team, Aneurin, who seems to know exactly what Harry means with his ramblings and sentences he doesn’t really finish, waving his hands around instead. The two of them know each other quite well and Fionn tries hard not to feel jealous of such a bond. But, as Harry has put it, they have worked together for years, so it shouldn’t be surprising that they know each other so well.

 

All Fionn does on the first day is mumble his agreement or disagreement, really. He watches Harry and Aneurin smile at each other, exchange knowing looks and soft touches whenever one of them did something the other finds funny. The stinging feeling of jealousy hits him hard.

 

He wants that, too. The gentle touches and looks, the smiles and laughter.

 

He never really felt this lonely before.

 

There shouldn’t be a reason for him to feel lonely though. He’s got a great family, his friends are always there for him and he’s got a great life to lead. But he’s missing soft touches, smiles and maybe even kisses or more – who knows what the two of them are up to when no one is watching. Fionn has read stories about Styles, who hasn’t?

 

“We should wrap it up for today,” Aneurin says eventually and takes a look at his watch. “It’s late and I’m pretty sure we don’t get anywhere anymore tonight.” It’s just the three of them in the studio by now, the others have left already.

 

Harry looks up, frowning a little. “But I was just getting in the mood.”

 

“Fionn is tired, H, give him a break. It’s his first day in the office,” Aneurin points out and immediately Harry’s green eyes come to rest on Fionn, making him feel a little uncomfortable and he sits up straighter on the couch.

 

“Sorry,” Harry says then and puts the guitar down. “I forgot. We can work on more tomorrow. I promise to let you take the lead then.” He smiles at him, genuinely and openly, like it’s just exactly what he meant by that.

 

“Uhm.” Fionn blinks and swallows. “Yeah, cheers, mate.” He takes the guitar that Harry has just put down, even though it’s not his and he doesn’t really feel overly comfortable with it. It’s still a nice guitar though. He lets his fingers glide over the smooth surface and lets the strangeness of it all wash over him.

 

“You’ve got your own guitar, don’t you?” Aneurin asks then, as if he knows exactly what Fionn is thinking. Fionn looks up at him, finding his green eyes resting on him. What’s with those guys and their stupidly intense green eyes? When Fionn nods, he smiles at him. “Why don’t you bring it tomorrow? It’ll be different for you, working with your own guitar. Brings a bit of familiarity to all of this.”

 

“Yeah. Sure.” Fionn nods again, now he understands why Harry requested Aneurin especially for this job, why he feels so comfortable working with him. It’s like having a big brother there, looking out for him and making him feel at home and at ease. Fionn looks over to Harry, who gives him a dorky smile and a thumbs-up and he can’t help but laugh cheerily, feeling at ease for the first time today.

 

 

\--

 

 

It gets better over the next days. Fionn warms up to Harry eventually and stops being so damn star struck. But the older lad makes it rather easy for him, with his dorky nature and his stupid jokes. It might be due to the fact that Aneurin has decided to remove the other writers for now, creating a more familiar atmosphere for them to work in. Of course they’ll join in eventually once more – Harry mumbles something about the fact that Fionn might also need a band because he and his guitar on a stage won’t be enough. But for now this is what they’re working with.

 

They got half a year, after all.

 

“Does it have to say ‘She’? I’d rather put ‘you’,” Fionn points out after a line, his fingers stilling on the guitar and he looks from Aneurin to Harry and back again. “Keep it more neutral, you know?”

 

The look Harry gives him is intense, it makes Fionn’s stomach flip a bit and he can’t quite sort it in, but Aneurin nods. “Sure. We can do that, if you want to.” He changes the lyrics, just as Fionn requested and then has him sing it again.

 

The whole time, Harry keeps watching him. His green eyes resting on Fionn’s face and Fionn can feel his ears burning. He doesn’t stop singing though and when he’s finished, Harry claps for him, slowly. “I loved that,” he says, his voice quiet and slow.

 

“Thanks.” Fionn smiles at him and puts down his guitar, looking down at his feet. He doesn’t really know what else to say. He can’t read Harry and his intentions behind his intensive looks or gentle smiles. Maybe he’s just reading something – too much – into it, but it feels like Harry is flirting with him and Fionn doesn’t really know how to cope with that. Sure, he has imagined it, at some point at least. But he never really thought he’d end up in a room with Harry Styles and all his focus and attention on him.

 

“Great, that’s the base of one song done. We should take a break, guys,” Aneurin announces. “I’ve got a lunch date but I’m sure you’ll manage to find something to eat on your own?”

 

Harry grins at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after Finnley.”

 

“Finnley?” Fionn raises his eyebrows, making Harry only grin harder at him. He’s never had someone use a nickname for him. His name is short enough as it is, no one really thought of calling him something different.

 

“Yep. We’ll have a great lunch,” Harry announces and Aneurin just sighs and rolls his eyes.

 

“Just be back on time.”

 

“Will do.” Harry flashes him a grin and a thumbs-up, leaving Fionn to ask himself whether it was the right decision when he performed his own song for the first time and stumbled into this mess in the first place.

 

 

\--

 

 

Lunch with Harry is surprisingly easy. They get stopped for a few pictures though, well, Harry does. But he answers every fan request patiently and always has a smile for them. He’s a different Harry than he is in the studio and Fionn wonders whether it’s easier to pretend to be someone else when you’re out here, exposed like this. It’s astonishing, really, but Fionn doesn’t say anything. Only when they’re at the restaurant Harry has chosen, hidden away from prying eyes in the left corner, Harry relaxes again.

 

He leans back and takes off his sunglasses, running a hand through his long curls, before he takes up the menu and studies it.

 

“Is it exhausting?” Fionn asks, as he watches him. He takes in the circles under Harry’s eyes and wonders if he’s sleeping enough. Or even well.

 

“What is?” Harry asks back, his confusion showing on his face.

 

“The fans? The fame, the attention? I don’t know. Make your pick. All of it, probably.” Fionn shrugs and looks down at the menu again, deciding to eat pasta, because it seems to be the only thing he finds remotely edible.

 

“Sometimes,” Harry replies and shrugs. “They’re the best fans though. I wouldn’t be anywhere without them. A bit crazy, sometimes, yes. But I still owe them a lot.”

 

Fionn nods. “Do you like it then?”

 

“It’s hard, sometimes. If you get papped everywhere you walk or stopped every other step. But I like it, yes. It comes in a package. I mean, I get to do the thing I love, like, creating music, singing, performing. So the fame comes with it. And I’ve got to admit that I really like the attention.” He’s laughing as he says it, making Fionn wonder if he really means it, but Harry is so confident and despite that still down to earth, it’s quite astonishing. “There was a point once where the whole world knew everything about me. And I figured out that I don’t want that. So I got a bit more careful about what I share and when I share it. Writing my own songs really helps with that.”

 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for it yet,” Fionn admits, feeling himself blush a little. He’s had people come up to him after a gig at Jack’s pub and he handled it rather awkwardly. Sure, it’s nothing compared to what Harry is going through, but really, Fionn doesn’t feel ready to face big crowds and paparazzi and fans waiting for him outside the studio, like they do for Harry. He’s even heard that some crazy fans once hacked some security cameras to get the footage of Harry and his bandmates. And he’s really not sure if he’ll ever be ready for that kind of dedication and craziness.

 

“You’ll be ready,” Harry says and reaches over, patting his arm softly in a friendly gesture. “I don’t know what to tell you. But you’re a great guy. You’ll know how to handle yourself once your album’s out and everything is going its way.”

 

Fionn looks down at Harry’s hand on his arm, the rings cool against his skin. His hand looks so big, or his arm looks so fragile, he’s not too sure. He’s a little scrawny, especially compared to Harry. Maybe he should sign up to a gym and buff up a little. “Thanks,” he says and looks up at Harry, who is smiling encouragingly at him and squeezes his arm once more, before he pulls back and studies the menu again.

 

His arm still tingles where Harry has touched him and Fionn immediately misses the touch.

 

 

\--

 

 

Harry and Aneurin come to the pub on Friday night and Jack almost loses it. If Fionn had known that Jack and Aneurin were mates, he would’ve said something earlier. He watches them hug and shout at each other and it’s kind of strange, but endearing anyway.

 

He doesn’t really ask how long they’ve known each other but it’s obvious that they’re good friends and it’s nice to see them so happy. Harry enjoys it as well, obviously, he nudges Fionn and grins at him, before he sits down on one of the barstools and gets comfortable.

 

It ends up being a relaxed evening, they all get along great, Tom and Barry immediately warm up to Harry and are charmed by him, like everyone else, really. Fionn is still impressed at how easily Harry does it, at how great he is at making people feel special.

 

Even though he doesn’t want to be, it’s really hard not to be envious. Envious of Harry and how easily everything seems to come for him and jealous of everyone else in the room that gets bathed in Harry’s attention because all Fionn really wants are those green eyes and Harry’s full attention on him and him alone.

 

He takes a large gulp of his beer, empties the glass and asks Jack for a refill because he’s not sure if he will survive the evening without a lot of alcohol.

 

“Fionn’s song is great though, innit?” Tom asks then, wrapping his arm around his friend and pulling him against his side. “I mean, we’ve all heard it millions of times but we really can’t get enough. He’s brilliant at it and I’m sure he’ll be the next big superstar.”

 

Harry smiles widely. “It is. I’ve only ever seen it on YouTube, though. Haven’t had the chance to hear it live yet.”

 

Tom shoots Fionn an almost annoyed look. “Really? You should sing tonight!”

 

“What? No.” Fionn shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

 

“Why yes, Finnley, you should sing tonight,” Harry says and waggles his eyebrows, a cocky smile tugging at his lips and Fionn really wants to punch him, so he does. He punches Harry’s shoulder and watches him flinch a little, with a certain amount of smugness.

 

“I don’t even have my guitar with me,” he says and shrugs. He doesn’t want to sing. It’s not because he doesn’t know the words or doesn’t feel comfortable about his song. He does. He’s put his heart in it. But now that Harry is watching, live, it’s something entirely different. They’re not in the studio. It’s not intimate and he’s a little afraid he’ll muck it up, now that it counts. Normally Fionn can’t be bothered about what people think of him. But it’s not people he’s worried about. It’s Harry.

 

“Oh, you can use mine. It’s upstairs. I know you’ve played on it before. You know it. I’ll fetch it for you,” Tom says eagerly and then he’s gone, shoving his pint into Barry’s hand on the way out.

 

“What’s up with him?” Barry asks as he steps over and nods behind him.

 

“Tom’s fetching his guitar so Fionn can play his song for us,” Harry announces loudly, loud enough for everyone close to them to hear.

 

Immediately Barry grins widely. “Oh, that’s amazing! I love that song. Fuck, yes.”

 

Jack pats Fionn’s back. “You’ll get an extra large pint later, on me,” he promises because the fucker knows Fionn too well and knows exactly what makes him weak and how to get him to play along.

 

Aneurin steps up to Fionn as well, placing a hand on his back. “You’ll do fine. You’re good at this. I’ve seen your video. You’re born to do this.”

 

Fionn looks up at him, stunned at the words. Aneurin is just like the big brother Fionn has always wanted. Not that there is anything wrong with Sonny, he’s a great big brother, but he’s only two years older than Fionn himself and Aneurin is closer to Maisie’s and Hattie’s age. Sure, his sisters are great and supportive as well. But it’s always a little different having a big brother or two big sisters.

He is just about to reply when Tom stumbles back into the pub, his guitar in his right hand, holding it up like a big price. He receives cheers from everyone and he walks over with it, carrying it like the Olympic torch.

 

With a sigh, Fionn empties his glass and takes the guitar and strolls over towards the small stage he knows so well. He isn’t in the mood to sing or play, having done it all day long, every day of the week. But he doesn’t want to disappoint his friends and he’s not one to back down from a challenge, which this has sort of become.

 

As he sits down on the stool and retunes the guitar, he can feel all their eyes on him, expectantly, waiting for him to begin. When he looks up though, he zeroes in on Harry, who gives him a short nod of approval and it makes Fionn’s stomach flutter and his ears burn.

 

It’s funny how such a simple gesture and a soft look can turn him into a ball of feelings, really. He’s had crushes before. Truly stupid crushes. But Harry is different. Fionn doesn’t know if it’s because he’s so famous – he really likes to think it’s not – or if it’s just the way Harry is so intense and honest in his interest in him that makes him feel so utterly out of focus. Whatever it is though, Fionn wants to saviour it. He doesn’t want to let it show though, doesn’t want to be one of _those_ people.

 

He smiles back at Harry and then looks away, his fingers working on their own as he starts playing. He doesn’t think, the words come out on their own as well, the music is guiding him and he closes his eyes, letting the music and the words wash over him, while the noise in the pub die down. Everyone is listening to his song, his own words.

 

While Fionn is singing, it gives him some kind of buzz. There are so many people here tonight, more than he’s ever seen in the pub, more than that night when Jack invited everyone in celebration for Fionn’s album deal. And even though they’re probably not all there for him, now they’re listening to him, to his words and his music and it gives him the best kind of thrill. Maybe this is what Harry has been referring to. He’s not too sure. But he loves it. He loves every second of it.

 

When he opens his eyes again, he searches for Harry. The pop star is still watching him, but his expression has changed. It’s soft and warm, almost proud and Fionn can feel his cheeks heating up again. He doesn’t let his blush bother him though. Without taking his eyes off of Harry, he finishes his song and stands up again.

 

The people in the pub immediately start cheering and clapping their hands, calling for more songs and Fionn’s name. He waves at them, before putting down the guitar and making his way over to his friends again.

 

“That was absolutely amazing, mate,” Harry says and reaches over to squeeze Fionn’s shoulder, his fingers brushing Fionn’s neck, warm and heavy. “I loved every second of it.”

 

His expression is so earnest and his voice steady and pure, Fionn really wants to believe that it’s Harry’s honest opinion. That he’s not just saying it to make Fionn feel good. He’s standing awfully close to him, Fionn can smell Harry’s cologne and the beer and a little bit of sweat. But it’s a good mixture and Fionn feels himself getting hot.

 

“Thanks, man,” he says and wraps his arm around Harry’s middle for a moment, squeezing his side a little, before he places his hand in the small of his back. It does feel good, being this close to him and having Harry Styles praise him and his music. Fionn had never known that it’s something he’s craved before but now that he’s had it, he doesn’t ever want to miss it again.

 

He wants Harry’s approval for his music, for everything he can get.

 

 

\--

 

 

It’s late when Fionn decides to call it a night. His head is buzzing. He’s had too much to drink and too much excitement for one day to cope with everything and he should probably really lay down now. So he tells his friend that he’ll head home and tells them to keep it up, for him, before he makes his way to the door.

 

“I’ll take you home,” Harry announces loudly, bids his goodbye to the others as well and follows Fionn outside.

 

“You’re drunk,” Fionn says and laughs a little. “You shouldn’t take anyone home but yourself.”

 

“You’re drunk, too,” Harry answers and falls in step with Fionn, as they make their way out of the pub. It’s not far to his flat share and Fionn knows the way by heart, walked it completely smashed more times than he can count.

 

There are quite a few people outside, some paparazzi and some fans waiting for Harry. The flashes blind Fionn but Harry’s hand in the small of his back guides him through the ruckus, shielding him from behind as he’s walking close to Fionn.

 

They get shouted at, most of the paps yelling Harry’s name, but Harry’s got a determined expression on his face as he pushes Fionn along. There’s a car waiting for Harry and he holds open the door, ushering Fionn inside.

 

Fionn slips in and fastens his seatbelt, before looking over at Harry, who just closes the door behind him, head leaning back against the headrest for a moment. He looks exhausted. “Where do you live?” He asks as the car pulls away, the driver waiting for instructions.

 

“I live close by,” Fionn replies and tells him the address. “You really don’t have to drive me home though. I can walk.”

 

“Least I can do, with what happened back there.” Harry gives him an apologetic smile and Fionn doesn’t quite understand.

 

“Not your fault, is it?” He asks and blinks, because there’s no way the paps would’ve taken any notice of him when Harry wouldn’t have left the pub with him. He could’ve just walked home on his own.

 

Harry just shrugs and reaches over to squeezes Fionn’s thigh softly, resting his hand there. It feels warm and heavy, but good, and Fionn looks down at Harry’s long fingers, the rings clinking together. He shouldn’t have that many feelings about Harry’s fingers.

 

It’s a nice and quiet night outside, really, except for all the drunken people out on the street, heading to the next party. But Fionn is sitting next to Harry in an expensive car in comfortable silence. Harry’s hand is still on Fionn’s thigh and there’s warmth bleeding through Fionn’s jeans, leaving his skin tingling. He wants to reach out and touch Harry as well, but he doesn’t quite know if he can trust himself with it.

 

When they reach Fionn’s house, the younger one looks out of the window. “This is me,” he says and then looks over at Harry.

 

“I’ll walk you up.” Harry gets out of the car, walks around and opens the door for Fionn before he can say anything about it.

 

“You really don’t have to,” Fionn replies anyway as he gets out.

 

“It’s the right thing to do,” Harry says cheekily, his hand coming to rest in the small of Fionn’s back once more, like he did outside the pub, warm and heavy as he guides him towards the front door.

 

Fionn unlocks the door and the two of them walk up the stairs in silence, Harry following him close. Once they reach the right floor, Fionn stops in front of the door, turns back to Harry and points behind him with his thumb. “This is me,” he says and looks up at Harry. He’s taller than him. Not much, but Fionn has to tilt his head a little and he wonders how he’d have to stretch a bit to kiss Harry. Not a lot, but he’d still have to straighten his back and lean up.

 

“Well then, good night, Finnley,” Harry says and leans down, kissing Fionn on the corner of his mouth. “It’s been a lovely night. Thanks for singing for me.”

 

“It’s been my pleasure,” Fionn replies, his voice quiet and barely more than a whisper. His hands have come up to grab Harry’s arms, holding him in place, because he doesn’t really want to let him go, even though he knows he should. “Thanks for bringing me home.”

 

“It’s been my pleasure,” Harry tells him, using his own words on him, and emphasises the word ‘pleasure’. It makes Fionn shiver a little and he has to remind himself to let go of Harry. He’s his colleague, more or less, a little bit of a mentor even, maybe. He should not be crushing on him, shouldn’t kiss him in the stairwell to his flat. And he especially shouldn’t want to ask him in and invite him into his bed.

 

“Good night then,” Fionn says and turns around, fumbling with his keys, hands shaking. Once the door is open, he practically flees into the flat, closing the door behind him as quietly as he can. Without stopping in the hallways he jogs to his room, quickly closing the door behind him. He leans his head against the cool wood and sighs, swallowing hard.

 

He really is fucked.

 

 

\--

 

 

Fionn doesn’t want to make a big deal out of this. Harry is just a mate who walked him home and kissed him good night. It’s nothing big, friends do that sometimes, he’s sure. Yet he can’t remember Jack, Tom or Barry doing it, ever, and he hasn’t done something similar either. Not without clear intent that he wanted to be with the other person.

 

He doesn’t see Harry again until Monday, however, and maybe it’s for the best that he can spend the weekend holed up in his room, pining and moping about a certain pop star and what he should or shouldn’t have done. He doesn’t even go out to see Joe.

 

On Monday though, it feels like everything is the same as it was before. “Hey,” Harry greets him, his smile as big as ever and his eyes shining.

 

“Ready for a new week of work?” Aneurin asks, handing Fionn a cup of coffee after he sat down.

 

“Yeah,” Fionn agrees, because it’s still way too early for him and he’s grateful for the coffee and that Aneurin has this calm, laid back attitude about him, which makes Fionn feel at ease, that he still has time to wake up properly, before they get on with all their work. He doesn’t feel ready, at all, he never does in the mornings and Monday is especially hard on him.

 

Harry is different though. He’s got so much energy and he’d love to dive in and start. He talks too much for Fionn’s liking, obviously excited about everything that they will work on today. Fionn feels the urge to punch him to calm him down or at least make him shut up. It’s exhausting to have such a ball of energy next to him this early in the morning. Normally he can just ignore Harry and his antics, but this morning Fionn feels on edge when he looks at the pop star and his too bright smile and his hair and these stupidly intense eyes. Today everything feels like it’s too much.

 

But Aneurin sort of slows Harry down, bringing him to Fionn’s level, reminding him that there are people in this world who don’t like to get up early in the morning and are energetic and ready to work.

 

“It’s motivating!” Harry claims, his hands waving around.

 

Fionn doesn’t reply, he lets Aneurin handle him and instead focuses on his coffee, letting the liquid warm him up and run through him, waking him up before they even start with their first scheduled work for the day.

 

 

\--

 

 

They don’t talk about the night Harry walked Fionn home and the sort-of-kiss. It’s a strange thing, really. Normally Fionn would walk up to him and demand answers, but with Harry, he’s not too sure what he’d hear. And he’s not sure if he’s ready to hear it anyway. So he doesn’t say anything. Instead he secretly hopes he’ll have the chance to kiss Harry again, this time for real, even if he doesn’t want to admit it to himself. He’s too afraid to muck up what they’ve build – a friendship and something Fionn can always fall back to on a professional level.

 

He doesn’t know what would come out of kissing Harry – probably at least a night to remember – but he’s not sure if he wants that. He doesn’t just want Harry for a night, doesn’t want to be another one of Harry Styles’s conquests, even though he doesn’t know if all of the stories he’s read are true. But there is something about Harry and their relationship, something that Fionn doesn’t want to give up and, at least for now, he thinks that acting on having his itch scratched will just contribute in not helping.

 

As the weeks go on, they do make a lot of progress with the album and Fionn grows more and more confident with each day. The other writers join them for some of the songs and Fionn gets self-assured and more at ease around them as well. They laugh a lot, letting the creative energy flow into their songs and letting the setting inspire them, playing back and forth off each other until the music sounds just right.

 

But it’s still nice to write with only Aneurin and Harry, Fionn could do it all day, really. He doesn’t want it to stop, ever. He’s grown so accustomed to getting up early and writing songs with them, that it’s become his daily life, even if that means, having to deal with an energetic and – as he still claims –motivating Harry. They’ve still got a few songs to finish and a few months to go, so there’s still the chance that he’ll have it a little longer.

 

The people in the suits have also recommended band members for him, telling him that he needs a band if he wants to perform on stages because he and his guitar won’t be enough. Apparently the world doesn’t need another Ed Sheeran. And Fionn isn’t ginger enough for that anyway.

 

Thankfully, Harry sits with him and Sophie and some suits from the record company, whose names Fionn will never be able to remember, through the casting process for the band members, giving helpful tips on how to choose since they’ll record with him as well. He doesn’t seem satisfied with any of the choices for the second guitarist though. “Why don’t you take Ni? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind,” he says after they have sent the fourth candidate out.

 

“I don’t think he’d want that,” Fionn replies and watches Sophie cross the last name off the list. “I can ask him, sure. But he’s more of a writer, I think?” He ponders a little, unsure of what to do. He doesn’t know the older one that well yet, but if Harry thinks he’ll make a great guitarist for Fionn’s band, well, why the hell not. They’re out of candidates for now anyway.

 

“Just ask him. I’m sure he’d like to keep an eye on you,” Harry says and grabs the pen, drawing a smiley on Fionn’s sheet.

 

“Alright. I’ll ask him.” Fionn rolls his eyes and grabs the pen from Harry, to stop him from doodling. When he looks down at the paper though, Harry has not only drawn a flower, but a heart and a rainbow as well.

 

 

\---

 

 

“Of course I’d play the guitar for you,” Aneurin says, smiling brightly at Fionn and wrapping him up in a hug. He ruffles his hair and then pats his back. “I’d love to. Yes. Wanted to get back on the stage for some time now but never really got the muse on my own.”

 

Fionn beams at him. “Good. Harry said you’d wanted to keep an eye on me,” he says and chuckles, his hand rubbing over Aneurin’s back, glad that he can count on and have him on stage with him.

 

“For your own sake, son, just for your own sake,” Aneurin replies and nudges him, before he looks over to where Harry is sprawled out on one of the couches, plucking away on a guitar. “Alright, we’re wrapping up for today.”

 

“No,” Harry whines and lifts his head. “We’re just getting somewhere. This song is coming along really good. And besides, you’ve just agreed to be Finnley’s guitarist. You should play that song with him.”

 

Aneurin sighs. “Won’t run away and we can still play together on Monday. But, you guys can continue, if you want? I’m not stopping you, but I’ve got somewhere I need to be,” he says and gets up.

 

“Oh, someone’s got a date,” Fionn teases, waggling his eyebrows and laughs, when Aneurin throws a paper ball at his head.

 

“Well, at least I’ve got a love life,” Aneurin answers and shrugs on his jacket. “Don’t spend the night here, lads. But have fun.”

 

Harry and Fionn watch him leave and then look at each other after the door has closed behind him. They burst out laughing immediately. Fionn throws his head back and holds his stomach, while Harry almost falls off the couch because he’s laughing so hard. When they finally come back to their senses, Harry looks up at Fionn and wipes tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes. “What do you think? Shall we wrap it up?”

 

Fionn shakes his head. “No, you’re right. We’re on to something good here. I’d quite like to finish what we’ve started.”

 

Harry beams at him and sits up again. “Good.” He crawls over to where Fionn is sitting on the couch and gets comfortable on the floor next to Fionn’s legs, resting his head against his left one. “I think this one’s gonna be a love song.”

 

“Yeah?” Fionn asks, his voice cracking a little and he coughs, to cover it up. “What makes you think that?”

 

“I don’t know. The melody, really. And the lyrics so far. I mean, you’re singing about something you want, something that makes you whole, but can’t have. It does sound kind of like love to me,” Harry explains, tapping against the iPad.

 

“Well, that’s a sad love song then,” Fionn tells him. “In love songs you’d normally sing about getting the girl, or whatever, right?”

 

Harry chuckles a little. “Sure. But I like the sad songs more. Their touch goes deeper and you can relate to them more than to the happy songs. At least I can.”

 

“Why’s that then?” Fionn asks, bringing his hand up to pat Harry’s head. His fingers glide into his hair and he massages his scalp softly, watching as Harry’s eyes close and his mouth fall open a bit.

 

“I’ve never been in love. Not like that anyway,” he admits quietly, without opening his eyes. “So I think, not knowing how it should feel and not having it is quite similar. At least for me. I’d like to imagine how love would make me whole, but I can’t be sure, right? So it’s an abstract concept I’m chasing.”

 

“Never been in love, huh?” Fionn asks softly, his fingers still caressing Harry’s head as the older one shakes it softly.

 

“Not like they always sing about in songs, no.”

 

“Well, to be fair, we’re still young. I do think we’re figuring out what love is, one step at a time. I mean, you love spending time with your family and friends, right? That’s some kind of love, too. So yeah. It’ll come to you, eventually,” Fionn replies, swallowing a little. He’s never really been in love either. Not like that. He’s had crushes, yes. He’s been on dates, yes. But he can’t say that he’s been in love enough to actually know what he’d be singing about.

 

And he knows that Harry has spent a lot of time with a lot of different people. As far as the media is concerned, he had a lot of different relationships as well. But Fionn isn’t quite so sure about that. Yeah, hook-ups, probably. But when Harry says he’s never really felt like he’s been in love, well, Fionn can relate to that.

 

“I love spending time with you. Does that count?” Harry asks cheekily, lifting his head to look up at him. His eyes are intense, Fionn notices once more. He loves their colour. It’s such a rich green, he could get lost in them.

 

He feels his cheeks heat up and his stomach flutter a little. “Yeah. I love spending time with you, too,” he replies softly, his hand moving down to Harry’s cheek to cup it gently. There’s a bit of stubble going on. Not much, because Harry really can’t grow a beard, like him, but it’s still there and it feels nice beneath Fionn’s fingers.

 

Harry leans into the touch and closes his eyes again, his lips slightly parted. Fionn’s heart starts hammering in his chest as he leans down, closing the gap between them. This time he kisses Harry fully on the mouth. His lips are warm against his own and softer than they look. The kiss is chaste at first, but then Harry is moving and he practically climbs on Fionn’s lap on the couch, his knees on either side of his legs.

 

He deepens the kiss immediately and Fionn can’t help the noises that escape him. He’d feel embarrassed but Harry really is a good kisser and he knows exactly what he wants. His head feels dizzy. He can’t do anything but kiss back as he clings to Harry, the fingers of one hand tangled in Harry’s hair, his other hand moving beneath his button down shirt that hasn’t even earned its name because there are merely a few buttons at the very bottom done up.

 

But Harry keeps making soft noises, too, like he really is enjoying kissing Fionn and it makes Fionn only kiss him harder, moaning into the kiss, especially when Harry moves against the bulge in his jeans. “Fuck,” he breathes between kisses, against Harry’s lips, his eyes still closed as he tries to catch his breath.

 

“We should call it a night, too,” Harry mumbles, nipping at Fionn’s lower lip. “Maybe continue this at home. I could show you my skills on the piano. I’m great with my fingers.”

 

Fionn can’t help but groan at that. “Harry. That’s not funny,” he says, opening his eyes to stare up at him.

 

Harry grins cheekily. “I thought it was,” he says and laughs, before leaning down to steal another kiss from Fionn’s lips. “Come back home with me, though?”

 

It’s a request, asked like a question and Fionn really should say no. He has had his doubts about being with Harry before, about ruining what they’ve built so far. But his hard-on is throbbing between his legs and it’s been a while since he had any sex at all and Harry is there and warm and fucking sexy and everything Fionn has had his fantasies about, so he nods and kisses him again on the mouth, before Harry eventually climbs off him and takes their jackets.

 

Harry’s car is parked right at the front and Fionn feels strange getting in. But at this hour there are no fans and no paps waiting for them and he feels better, once he’s inside, behind the tinted glass. Harry smiles at him. “Relax,” he says as he starts the engine. “No one’s going to know you’re coming home with me to do naughty things.” He waggles his eyebrows, one corner of his mouth curled up in a cheeky grin. He looks absolutely sensual.

 

Fionn laughs at that and shakes his head. “Shut up and drive, Harold,” he says, having stolen the name from Harry’s mates. He likes the idea, he’s got to admit. Since Harry keeps calling him Finnley, he should do the same for him.

 

Harry grins at that and winks at him, before he actually drives into the night. His hand comes to sneak up on Fionn’s thigh and squeezes softly every now and then. Fionn is really grateful it’s an automatic car because even though he hasn’t had the money to do his driver’s licence yet, he knows one should keep one’s hand free to change gears if needed.

 

He stops thinking about cars and gears though when Harry pulls up into his driveway and the two of them make their way into Harry’s house. It’s large, huge even, and Fionn isn’t too sure if Harry really is living here or if he’s just got it to throw the massive house parties he’s read about.

 

But his thoughts quickly stop circling around houses and parties, when Harry’s arms are around him once more and Harry is kissing him again, this time with more intention and drive. His fingers are slipping beneath Fionn’s clothes, as they make their way up the stairs to the bedroom, shedding their clothes on the way. He pushes his doubts back, not wanting to ruin the moment as he returns Harry’s kisses, his fingers moving over warm skin. He’s old enough to know what he’s doing, to live with the consequences. And he’s sure that Harry knows pretty well what he’s doing, too.

 

Eventually though Fionn stops thinking for the rest of the night.

 

 

\--

 

 

He wakes the next morning to the smell of breakfast. It smells of eggs and bacon and coffee, making his stomach rumble a little. Barely stifling a yawn he rolls onto his stomach and then reaches for the nightstand, where he’s placed his glasses the night before. Once he can see more than his hand in front of his face, he takes a good look around the bedroom. Like everything in this house and Harry’s life, it’s too large, but there’s an ensuite bathroom and he really feels like taking a shower.

 

He feels better afterwards, like a proper human being again, and a little more awake. Harry’s probably very expensive shower gel does smell nice though. When he gets out, he steals a pair of Harry’s underwear as well and he can’t bring himself to feel bad about it. He puts on sweatpants and a hoodie, too, because it’s fucking October and it’s freezing outside.

 

When he gets downstairs, Harry is standing in front of the shove, wearing nothing but pants and an apron. “Good morning, sunshine,” he chirps, his hair still wet from the shower he took. “I’ve made lots of coffee for you, so you don’t hate me.” He’s awfully cheery and energetic and Fionn really wants to strangle him. He’s achy and tired and hungry and really needs his coffee, but at the same time he can’t really stay grumpy face with Harry right now. Not with the way Harry is smiling so brightly at Fionn like he’s hung the moon, like he’s the best thing he’s seen all day.

 

Luckily for Harry, he knows exactly how Fionn likes his coffee by now and thus it’s perfect. So Fionn refers from strangling Harry right away. That, and the fact that Harry is just making him food. “Thanks,” he mumbles instead and sits down on one of the barstools, watching Harry cook up a massive breakfast. He’s even made pancakes.

 

“I thought I’d let you sleep in. It’s been a long and tiring night,” Harry replies and grins at him, waggling his eyebrows.

 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Fionn replies and rolls his eyes. “It was decent.”

 

“Only decent. That hurts, Finnley.” Harry laughs at him, because he sees right through him. And judging from the way he had Fionn moaning between the sheets last night, yes, it’s been a great night. Fionn doesn’t even want to lie about it. But he’s also quite certain that Harry has heard it all before and he doesn’t want to be another conquest.

 

It’s silly because he knows that this is going nowhere. Once they’re done with Fionn’s album, Harry is going to jet back to LA or anywhere around the world and then he’s going on a big world tour and Fionn is just staying right where he is. He doesn’t want to sulk because it’s been a great night and Harry is making breakfast for him, but it really sucks to know that this can’t last. But maybe it’s for the best. At least things won’t be weird between them if Fionn doesn’t let them get weird.

 

Harry doesn’t look concerned though. He arranges the eggs and the sausages and the bacon on their plates and puts on in front of Fionn with a kiss to his cheek. He smiles at him again, like Fionn is the best thing that has ever happened to him and Fionn feels his stomach flutter. Maybe he can enjoy it a tad longer before he starts sulking about what he can’t have and write more sad love songs about it.

 

 

\--

 

 

Fionn spends the entire weekend at Harry’s house and then ends up going home with Harry every night after this. They don’t have sex every night, obviously, but it’s still nice to pretend to have a functional relationship, even if it’s not. Fionn doesn’t know what it is they’re having, but they laugh and have a good time and he simply loves spending time with Harry. He makes him laugh about almost anything and he’s surprisingly good at holding conversation, even though Fionn thought at first that talking with Harry would be exhausting due to his ability to drag out almost every sentence he starts and his ability to not finish his sentences. But he finds the talks with Harry refreshing and easy, like he knows exactly what Harry is trying to tell him.

 

They keep their relationship, or whatever it is they’re having, secret though. They don’t tell Aneurin anything and Fionn, even though he wants to talk to someone, doesn’t even speak to Tom. He’s kind of glad that he can keep Harry to himself and he’s glad that Harry keeps him secret, too. He’s the one thing Harry doesn’t share with the world. The one thing the world doesn’t know about Harry Styles. And it makes Fionn feel even more special.

 

It’s a little silly and he should want the world to know because for now he’s having Harry Styles and the world isn’t and it’s a fucking amazing feeling.

 

“I barely see you these days,” Tom complains one evening in the pub, pressed up against Fionn’s side, his arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders. “And if I do, you’re always with Styles. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you, that you’re making new friends. But I’m your best mate.”

 

Fionn smiles at him and sneaks his arm around Tom’s middle, hugging him close. “You are,” he agrees and squeezes his side softly. “I’m not replacing you with Harry.”

 

“Good,” Tom says and nods, giving him a firm look. “I won’t let you. I mean, you’re smiling all the time and you’re weirdly _happy_ , and I’m really happy for you.” He’s drunk, he shouldn’t make sense. But Tom has supported Fionn practically since forever and he’s always made sure that Fionn was okay, so Fionn knows exactly what Tom means. He should tell him about his thing with Harry. But he doesn’t want to be the one who uses Harry Styles and he doesn’t want his mate to judge him for it, even though Tom would never do that.

 

“He’s good for you. Makes you smile,” Tom continues and giggles against Fionn’s shoulder, hiding his face there for a moment. “I mean, your crush is obvious, but then you’ve lusted after him for years.”

 

Fionn rolls his eyes. “Why am I even friends with you?” He asks, patting Tom’s side a little.

 

“Because you love me,” Tom explains and looks up again, beaming brightly, like Fionn is the best thing in the world and Fionn can’t even deny it. He really loves him, is glad that Tom is there for him and he knows that he’ll have to tell him, eventually. But it’s got to wait for a little bit. Fionn selfishly wants to keep Harry to himself a little longer.

 

“Yeah, I do,” Fionn replies and smiles back at him, patting Tom’s side again. “I really do.”

 

“Do you love me more than Harry Styles?”

 

Fionn laughs out loud, his cheeks flushing a little because Tom can’t know, but he’s drunk and looking at Fionn with big, trusting eyes, and it makes his heart ache a bit, because he’s his best mate and he isn’t him telling the truth about what he’s been up to for the last weeks. “Of course.”

 

“Good.” Tom nods, content with the answer and then looks over to the bar, where Jack and Aneurin are talking with Harry. “Yo, Styles! Fionn loves me more than you!”

 

Harry looks up then, his eyes sparkling, Fionn can tell, despite the dim light in the pub. “Does he now?” He asks back, an amused smiles tugging at his lips. “Good for you, then.”

 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t approve of!” Jack calls out and gives them a look.

 

“Don’t worry, babe. I’m not even Fionn’s type,” Tom answers and cackles, making Fionn flush even harder.

 

Harry just laughs out loud at that, his eyes resting on Fionn.

 

 

\--

 

 

Since they spend more and more time together, Fionn gets introduced to Harry’s circle of friends as well. He’s already met Nick and he really loves the guy. He’s the same as Harry is, really energetic and the two bounce off of each other easily. He loves how Nick just wants the best for Harry and teases him as much as he takes care of him. It’s a great friendship and Fionn is happy that Harry has found someone to take care of him like this. He just doesn’t want to meet up with both of them early in the mornings. There’s only so much Fionn can take.

 

But he also knows that Harry and he can’t stay like this forever. It makes his heart ache a little when he thinks about the few weeks they have left, before they wrap up his album. It’s almost fully produced now, there are just a few quirks and details that are missing, but they’ve come so far and it’s not even been half a year. Yet he doesn’t know why he feels so much when it comes to Harry. He’s having a crush, nothing more. A rather bad crush, he has to admit. But he can’t have more with Harry anyway. He shouldn’t get too emotionally invested because in the end, he’ll get his heart broken if he does and he really, really doesn’t want to be another one who fell in love with Harry Styles and couldn’t be loved in return.

 

With Harry, time flies so fast that all Fionn wants is to buckle up and enjoy the ride while he can. He knows that it’s silly, but he also knows what he got himself into when he took the invitation and followed Harry home. He keeps repeating it like a mantra to keep himself sane and try to convince himself that he’s not too emotionally invested. He knows better than to fall in love with Harry Styles. He knows what he got himself into and he knows that he’ll have to leave his feelings out of this. In the end, Harry and he are mates. Mates, who occasionally have sex.

 

It’s one thing, to fall in love and regret it. Fionn doesn’t regret one silly little thing. But he can’t lie to himself. He knows himself too well for this and he’s fallen so hard for Harry, he doesn’t know how he should manage to live without what they have right now. He knows it’s silly, of course he does. But his feelings are something he can’t control. So he decides to enjoy while it lasts, soak up everything he get from Harry and doesn’t bear too much hope of continuing it after the album is finished.

 

He just hopes that Harry and he can stay friends afterwards as well, because he doesn’t want to jeopardise what they’ve created for them. It the only thing Fionn would really regret. If everything they’ve done so far would lead to him and Harry not talking to each other anymore.

 

Harry, on the other hand, seems to take it as easy as ever. It seems like he doesn’t think about what is going to happen when they are finished, where he has to go and the tour he has to start. It makes Fionn realise that Harry has gone through similar experiences again and again. That, despite his young age, Harry knows what it’s like to let go.

 

And he’s pretty sure that Harry still doesn’t know what it’s like to be in love. He remembers their conversation from when it all started still lividly. The night Harry confessed to him he’s never been in love before. It’s still so hard to believe, but now that Fionn has come to know what it’s like to be with Harry, he can understand better what it’s like for him. Why he doesn’t want to let himself fall in love.

 

“A penny for your thoughts,” Harry whispers, his fingers tracing over Fionn’s spine as they lie in bed, spend and satisfied.

 

“Nah, they’re worth more than a penny,” Fionn answers and shakes his head, mainly because he doesn’t want to tell Harry what he’s been thinking about. He doesn’t want to tell him that he’s been thinking about ending this. He doesn’t want to be the one to have his heart broken, once Harry leaves London again. He knows that it’s selfish and he’s not too sure if he can actually go through with it. But the thought of being let go by Harry is scary. He’s probably so used to people leaving in his life that it isn’t even hard for him to end this thing between them himself, no matter how much he’s enjoyed it.

 

Harry chuckles and turns Fionn’s head softly with his other hand, leaning down to steal a kiss from his lips. “Enough yet?”

 

“No.”

 

“Really, Finnley, you’re a tough one to break. I mean, I’ve given you quite the orgasm and that’s still not enough for you.” Harry pinches Fionn’s side, making him squirm.

 

“I’m just tired, Harry,” Fionn answers and lays his head back on Harry’s chest, right over his heartbeat. It’s a steady sound, soothing even. The proof that Harry isn’t a heartless, selfish bastard. He’s got one. Fionn only isn’t too sure if Harry’s heart is beating for him.

 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees in a quiet voice. “Let’s sleep then.”

 

 

\--

 

 

The atmosphere between them shifts the next day. It is as if Harry knows that something is bothering Fionn. Maybe he can read him like an open book, Fionn doesn’t know. He’d like to think that he’s mysterious and hard to read, but he’s sure that his face shows all of his emotions quite clearly. At least Tom keeps telling him that he’s easy to read.

 

He’s got to do interviews and press about his upcoming album the following days and he really isn’t good about this promo stuff. It wears him down, keeping him on edge all the time, which doesn’t help the situation with Harry either.

 

He doesn’t want people to know about him, doesn’t want them to know his birthday or his favourite colour or whom he’s shagging right now – which would be an even greater disaster if they knew. So he sticks to the answers he’s cooked up with Sophie, that it’s been an absolute honour working with Harry Styles and the other artists on the album. He doesn’t say much about himself, just keeps talking about what a great artist Harry is and how much he’s rubbed off on him, which isn’t even a lie. Harry did rub off on him. In more ways than one.

 

After the last day of promo, he goes to Jack’s pub. He just needs a pint and some distraction from this entire ruckus. He needs his friends and the way they keep him on his feet, keep him grounded.

 

“Hey! Here’s the next big superstar!” Jack calls out, grinning brightly and cheering at Fionn, making him blush a little.

 

Tom shoves him and walks around the bar, wrapping his arm around Fionn’s shoulder and walks him to his favourite spot at the bar. “What’s wrong?”

 

Fionn gives him a grateful look. Tom really knows him well. “I’ve had a hell of a day of promo,” he says and climbs on the barstool, slumping down a little. He takes the beer Jack shoves in front of him and downs half of it in one go.

 

“What’s so hard about that? I mean, all you have to do is talk a little about yourself and your music. Easy,” Jack says and shrugs.

 

“Sure, because Fionn’s so good at talking about himself to complete strangers,” Tom says and shakes his head. “How long do you know him already?”

 

“He’s your friend. You brought him home,” Jack replies and shrugs.

 

Fionn smiles at them, grateful that they’re still the same to him, still manage to bring him to his senses again in all this new experience and new people he meets every day. “Love you, too, Jack.”

 

Jack grins back and reaches over to ruffle Fionn’s hair. “Now spill it, what’s going on with you? You seem a bit... sad. Shouldn’t all of this be really exciting? You should be jumping up and down and yelling in excitement.”

 

“Yeah, probably. But like, they all want to know everything about me. Like, what I’m up to, or whom I’m seeing right now.” Fionn sighs and then takes a deep breath before simply putting it out there. “I’ve slept with Harry.”

 

“I knew it! C’mon, pay up, love.” Jack holds out his hand and wiggles his fingers, waiting until Tom hands him a fifty pound note.

 

“You bet on my love life?” Fionn asks and stares at his mates, his gazes flicking between the two of them.

 

“We didn’t really bet on it per se,” Tom starts, having the decency to look at least a bit sheepish.

 

“Yes, we did,” Jack says then and stuff the note in his pocket. “I mean, you did have it bad for Styles. It was only a matter of time, really.”

 

Fionn gives him a dark look. “I wasn’t that obvious.”

 

“Yes, you were, mate.” Jack shrugs. “But anyway. You slept with him. That bad? I’d thought you’d be happy to have your itch scratched. I mean, you’ve been lusting after the guy for what, years?”

 

“Not that long,” Fionn mumbles and shakes his head. “It’s... it’s more than that. I didn’t only sleep with him. We’ve been... seeing each other? Sort of. I mean, it’s not really a relationship? I don’t know what it is.”

 

“You’ve fallen for him,” Tom says and gives him a sympathetic look, his hand coming up to rest on Fionn’s back, gently rubbing over it. He doesn’t even seem upset that Fionn hasn’t said anything to him sooner. He’s just there for him, right by his side and offering comfort like the good mate he is.

 

Fionn nods, looking down at his beer. Yes, he’s fallen pretty hard for Harry and he knows that this isn’t going anywhere. He can’t be with him, can’t be happy with him. At least not like he wants to, like he’d normally date a guy and it hurts him that Harry just acts like it doesn’t bother him. And now everyone wants to know if he’s seeing someone and he just really wants to tell the world that he’s head over heels in love with Harry Styles. But he can’t tell anyone.

 

“Oh love,” Jack says gently, reaching over to place his hand on Fionn’s shoulder and squeezes.

 

It’s almost too much, having the comfort and the sympathy of his friends like this. Fionn could cry. But he should be happy. He’s having a great album on the way; he’ll do a tour, probably. He’s got a band now, people who can even become his mates. Everything is working out for him. But here he is, moping over a guy he can’t have, a love that has no future. He could slap himself for it. It’s stupid, it really is. But he can’t help his feelings.

 

 

\--

 

 

When he comes home that night, Harry is waiting in his flat. Joe must’ve let him in, since Harry doesn’t have a key for the flat. He can’t really remember the last time the two of them spend time here. They’ve almost always been exclusively at Harry’s house, since it’s been more convenient and they’ve had more privacy.

 

“So, I’m rubbing off on you then?” Harry asks with a grin and tries to wrap his arms around Fionn, which Fionn ducks out of.

 

“Of course you are, Harry. You’re a brilliant musician. I’ve loved working with you.” Fionn walks over to kitchen and puts the kettle on. He’s not much of a tea drinker, but right now he feels like he could use a cuppa. He hasn’t even finished the beer Jack had given him.

 

“Everything alright?” Harry asks carefully as he follows him, keeping his distance though, as if he knows that something is up with Fionn.

 

“No, it’s fucking not,” Fionn replies and grips the counter top. “It’s fucking not alright. It’s exhausting, that’s what it is. The fucking world wants to know about me and I just want to play music. I don’t want to talk about when and where I was born or whom I’m shagging right now. It’s none of their fucking business.”

 

“What’s so bad talking about whom you’re shagging?” Harry asks quietly, his rings clinking together as he tries to figure out where to put his hands.

 

“Really, that’s what you’re taking from this?” Fionn turns around. “I don’t want them to know. And you shouldn’t want that either. It’s hard enough as it is anyway. I don’t know what we’re having, how am I supposed to tell someone, the world, what it is?” He knows that it’s stupid. He shouldn’t get as affected by this as he is, but he can’t help his feelings and the way his heart aches a bit with the questions about Harry.

 

He doesn’t want the world to think that he just uses Harry to climb up in the music world. He doesn’t. Not because he cares what the world is thinking about him. But because he doesn’t want them to write any more bullshit about Harry than they already do. Fionn has read enough to know that the picture the media paints of Harry is grotesque and blurry.

 

“You don’t have to put a label on it, you know? Sometimes you can just enjoy what you’ve got instead of trying to make it into something it’s not,” Harry says gently and tilts his head to the side. “That’s what it’s about, innit? You’re confused about us.”

 

“I’m not confused,” Fionn replies. “Because there’s nothing I can be confused about, right? We’re shagging. That’s it. And I’m not ready to tell the world I’m another one of Harry Styles’s conquests and have them think I’m just using you to get fame or some other idioticity.”

 

“You’re not using me!” Harry says immediately and frowns at him. “And you’re not a conquest. You’re much more than that, Fionn.”

 

“Really. Because next week you’ll be off on a plane to LA and I’ll be stuck here, doing a few gigs at local clubs and then you’ll be off, doing a big ass world tour and I don’t quite know how there’s room in your life for me,” Fionn points out, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I just want something normal. Something to relate to. But with you it’s never normal, is it? You’re a big ass superstar and I’m me. I’m just not good enough.”

 

“What? No!” Harry moves forward and wraps his arms around Fionn, hugging him close. “Where is that coming from? You’re better than me, Fionn, better than I could ever be. I love spending time with you and you’re more than I could’ve ever hoped for.” Harry presses a soft kiss to Fionn’s temple. “You’re the realest thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

 

“I don’t think I can be,” Fionn says softly, staring up at Harry. He wants to, he really wants to. But he doesn’t quite see how he could be. By now he’s sure that he loves Harry. But doesn’t loving someone mean you’ll have to let them go? He could do that for Harry. He’d let him go, let him have his fame and his world tour and the attention he loves so much. Fionn doesn’t really want the attention that’s coming with the fame and he’ll let Harry have all of that, even if that means that he can’t have Harry. He’s just so utterly confused.

 

“But you are,” Harry says softly and leans in to kiss him, his lips gentle against Fionn’s own. It’s a promise, maybe, that he’ll think of the things they’ve achieved together and the time they’ve spent together. That Harry will not forget him.

 

If Fionn is quite honest with himself, the past months have been the best in his life, both on a professional and a personal level. He’s never had this much fun and never felt this close to another human being before. He doesn’t know if it’s because of Harry or because of what they’ve achieved together. But he knows that he’s cherished the time that they had together and that he’ll hold everything close in his heart, even after Harry is back out there, doing things a pop star does.

 

“You knew it wouldn’t last though, didn’t you?” He asks back, his fingers curling into Harry’s jumper. “And I knew it, too. It’s okay though. It’s been fun. But we can’t keep that up. Not with everything that is about to happen. There’ll be worlds between us, Harry. I don’t think it will work.”

 

“You don’t have to put a label on it,” Harry says again, his hand coming up to cup Fionn’s cheek. “You can be happy with someone without having to say what you are.”

 

“But I’d miss you too fucking much.” Fionn furrows his brow. He starts to get irritated at Harry and his lack of understanding. For Harry it always looks so easy because it seems he never thinks about the consequences and what would happen. No matter if they label what they’re having or don’t. It’s still too hard for Fionn if Harry doesn’t love him back, if their relationship or not-relationship is one-sided. He wants Harry to miss him as well, to care that he’s not there with him and he wants to be for Harry what Harry is for him.

 

Fionn can’t sit around at home and watch dozens of pictures of Harry with other people, how much fun he’s having, leaving Fionn to wonder whether or not Harry is shagging them. He just can’t bear it. He wants Harry for himself and if he can’t have him, then he won’t have him at all. Fionn can’t do a half-hearted relationship where they shag whenever Harry is in town. He’ll have to manage being friends with him then.

 

“You think it would be better if you broke up with me?” Harry asks back, his voice calm and quiet. But Fionn can see the storm in his eyes. Can see how much it affects him, too, even though he tries not to let it show.

 

“Yes!” Fionn says irritated, letting his head drop for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts and find the right words to say. “No. Fuck. I don’t know.” He looks up again, searching Harry’s green eyes with his own. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I think I’ve fallen for you and your stupid hair and your stupid jokes and I don’t want to be unhappy. I want you to want me back, but you don’t know what love is and it makes me mad. It makes me so mad that you can be so calm about all of this. And I’m going to miss you so fucking much when you’re gone. I don’t want you to go.” He blinks rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. He doesn’t want to cry about this. He’s never cried about someone he has been with but it fucking hurts already and Harry is still here with him, he hasn’t even left London yet.

 

“What makes you think that?” Harry asks softly and Fionn frowns at him.

 

“What?”

 

“That I don’t want more.”

 

“Because you don’t know what love is? You’ve never been in love before, you’ve said it yourself,” Fionn replies. It’s easy though. He still remembers the night of their first real kiss. Everything that Harry has told him. He can’t forget his words. He’s met so many different people and had the chance to fall in love and yet he never did. And now he wants Fionn to believe that he fell in love with him, of all people. He’s the most normal, most boring person of them all. He’s got nothing special about him. “And I can’t do it, Harry. I can’t bear not having you for real and watching you jet around the world and be with other people, too. I just--”

 

Harry places a finger over Fionn’s lips, stopping him mid-sentence. “I don’t want to be with other people. I want to be with _you_ , Fionn Whitehead, you stupid idiot,” Harry says and laughs. When he blinks, his eyes shine a little in the light. “I don’t know if it’s enough. But it’s all I can offer.” His hands tighten their grip around Fionn, fanned out over the small of his back, holding him almost impossibly close and secure.

 

Fionn stares at him. He can’t really believe what he’s hearing. “You...?” He swallows and shakes his head, laughing softly as well. “And here I am, freaking out about not being good enough for you and you...” He doesn’t finish the sentence, instead he leans up and catches Harry’s mouth with his own, kissing him. The angle is off, it is awkward and more teeth than anything, but Fionn pours his heart into it. He wants Harry to know, even though he already told him.

 

He still can’t wrap his head around it. It’s too much. He’s been so confused about everything, about his own feelings and Harry in particular. He can’t make sense of it all, the past months have been a storm, taking him along for a ride he isn’t sure he’s prepared for. But he knows that he can master it. All he needs to do is buckle up and enjoy the ride. There is still so much to come, so many new things to do and learn and he’ll figure it out as he goes along with it.

 

But there’s still Harry. Harry, who wants to be with him, and only him. He doesn’t know if it’ll be enough. If he can be what Harry needs or if Harry can be what Fionn needs. But he knows that they can try and figure out what they are, slowly, as the world rushes by. When they’re together, they’re in their own little bubble, like they have been in the past few months, and it doesn’t matter what happens around them and that’s really all that counts.

 

 

\--

 

 

When the supporting acts for Harry’s world tour get announced a week later, Fionn is set to play every single concert with him.

 

 

 

The End.


End file.
